


A Soft Place To Land

by AssassinOfRome



Category: Legally Blonde - All Media Types, Legally Blonde - Hach/O'Keefe/Benjamin
Genre: Am I writing Legally Blonde fanfiction in the year of our lord 2018, Bruiser ships it, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Let Emmett Sleep 2k18, Pre-Relationship, apparently so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 08:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16489256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinOfRome/pseuds/AssassinOfRome
Summary: At first, she thought he was simply squinting hard at the ceiling, his habit sometimes when lost in thought. But as the seconds slipped past and his head lolled to the side, she realised he must have fallen asleep.“Oh.” She mumbled to the silent room. Still, she couldn’t help but be surprised. When Emmett had originally quipped about not sleeping since 1992, she had laughed along for what felt like the first time since starting school. Yet within a few weeks of his mentorship, she wondered how much of a joke that had been.Emmett falls asleep during a study session. Elle tucks him in. Cuteness ensues.





	A Soft Place To Land

Cracking open yet another can of Red Bull, Elle took a defiant swig and wondered if she’d ever be finished with this definitions list. 

Emmett had thrust the thick wodge of paper into her hands at the beginning of their study session, smiling fiendishly as he’d declared his little “pop quiz”, a pre-exams treat to keep her on her toes. Each page was covered with legal terms and he’d tasked her with filling out as many as she could. After a few groans dramatic enough to have Shakespeare quaking in his boots, she got to work as he settled down on her bed to mark some of Callahan’s end of term papers. His stack had been nearly as thick as hers, and they’d soon fallen into their usual comfortable silence.

That was, until she had reached the ‘ex’s. When she’d first arrived in Harvard, she figured Warner would be her worst challenge in this department, but it turned out, Latin was somehow even more tricksy than future US Senators. She’d managed to guess her way through the first half but found herself stumped on question 117. Tapping the tip of her pen against her lips, she resigned herself to begging for a hint. 

“Emmett?” She whispered, as not to disturb the scholarly air that hung around them like department store perfume. “Remind me – is there a difference between _ex nunc_ and _ex tunc_?” 

And yet, her mentor stayed stubbornly silent. Was he really going to enforce exam conditions at – she glanced at the clock ticking merrily away at her desk – three o’clock in the morning? With a slight groan, she turned to her companion to instead suggest a short break. He couldn’t begrudge her that, surely?  


At first, she thought he was simply squinting hard at the ceiling, his habit sometimes when lost in thought. But as the seconds slipped past and his head lolled to the side, she realised he must have fallen asleep. 

“Oh.” She mumbled to the silent room. Still, she couldn’t help but be surprised. When Emmett had originally quipped about not sleeping since 1992, she had laughed along for what felt like the first time since starting school. Yet within a few weeks of his mentorship, she wondered how much of a joke that had been. She could (and did) text him any time, day or night, and his response time was impressively quick; the only time he’d taken more than an hour was whilst he was covering one of Callahan’s lectures, and even then, he’d apologised profusely. She’d seen him on campus before and after school hours almost every day, usually juggling bundles of papers and battered folders, or hunched over enormous textbooks as the lights in the library dimmed. And that was all on top of their study sessions. As the term dragged on, she watched, helpless, as the bags under his eyes grew larger and darker. Somehow, he still managed to find a smile for her, even if she’d spent three hours misunderstanding the simplest legal concept. To seem him asleep was like catching a waft of clean laundry; unexpected, but oddly comforting. 

Bruiser was apparently as curious as she was to inspect a sleeping Emmett and so pounced up onto the sheets. Elle jerked forward as if to stop him, and nearly sent her drink flying. As she set the can right again, she saw Bruiser sniffing away at Emmett’s face. 

“Oh Bruiser, sweetie, no. Leave him be.” She called as quietly as she could, but the dog paid little attention. Instead, he pressed his nose directly against Emmett’s cheek, resulting in a few sleepy snuffles. Elle squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, waiting for the barrage of grumbles. Warner had always despised Bruiser jumping up on the bed, let alone waking him up. 

But the grumbling never came. 

Peeping through her lashes, she saw that Emmett snoozed on, only now his hand rested gently on Bruiser’s back. Nonplussed, Bruiser turned in three neat circles, plopping down next to Emmett and resting his chin on the sleeping man’s stomach. As he too drifted into a doze, Elle couldn’t help but look closer at her puppy’s pillow. 

He looked younger in his sleep, she realised, as she watched him nuzzle against her dusty pink duvet. Time and stress had left their etchings around his eyes and mouth, but that faded in the warm half-light of her bedside lamp. Still, she missed the animation of Emmett awake. The way his eyebrows twitched and his shoulders bounced and how his hands soared through the air as he emphasised his point. He’d never thought their secret handshakes were dumb; in fact he’d relished the idea, adding his own little gestures and bouncing with excitement every time they curled their fingers into a simultaneous C. They’d never stated if that last symbol meant anything. It could have been a C for Callahan, or a mimed bicep curl. It could, she thought privately, have formed two halves of a heart. 

It was at that moment that she noticed the little shivers coursing through Emmett’s body. She’d stolen enough hoodies from her friend to know layering up was his style, and she’d always found a colder dorm helped her focus. Desperately, she glanced around for anything to help; why hadn’t he mentioned anything whilst he was awake? Luckily, she spied a forlorn blanket wadded up under her desk. It must have been thrust there the first time Emmett had sped through her room, tossing all sorts of belongings into the trash in a desperate attempt to show her the world beyond haircare products and lip-balm. He’d been right of course, she thought as she seized the blanket from the floor. It wasn’t too dusty and felt fuzzy to the touch. Perfect then, for a cold winter’s night. 

Taking care not to tread on any of the squeakier floorboards (alas, the hallowed halls of Harvard Law weren’t exactly silent), she crossed over to the bed and found herself pausing just above him, blanket in hand. Emmett was a splash of blue in the sea of pink, but he didn’t clash. He looked like he belonged there, nose pressed into her pillow. When she saw that his fingers were carded into Bruiser’s fur, stroking softly enough to let the dog sleep, her heart felt like it was swaddled up with him, cosy amongst the comforter and his curls. Her mind, meanwhile, stuttered to a halt. 

Was this what love felt like? No, it couldn’t be. Love with Warner had felt hot and sharp, like the thrum of party music, or the sting of neat vodka in the back of her throat. This felt like well-worn shoes, or the tingle of a fresh face-mask. This felt like stepping into a warm bath, with candlelight flickering, and a well-worn copy of Cosmo in her hand. Surely this wasn't the same thing? 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a little rumbling noise from Bruiser. He’d awoken and was watching her with the dog equivalent of perceptive fondness; she swore that puppy knew her better than her own parents. He glanced between the blanket and its intended recipient, and, as if in approval, laid his head down again, this time settling a paw over Emmett’s ribs. _‘We’re keeping this one’_ , he seemed to say. 

As Elle tucked the blanket around the rest of Emmett and watched a small smile blossom on his lips, she couldn’t help but agree.


End file.
